


Update-Every-Three-Days-Tober (Formerly Known as: Fictober)

by iuwui



Category: NCT, NCT 127 - Fandom, NCT Dream, NCT WayV
Genre: Angsty angst has been posted, BECAUSE Y’ALL PERVS ARE SEXUALIZING THE CHILDREN, Chapter-ish, College Roommates AU, Crack, DESTROY SOMEONE, GIVE US THE 2019 YEARBOOK ALREADY, Hawaiian Pizza - Freeform, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I will, IF I SEE ANOTHER CHENJI SMUT, I’ll add tags as I add onto this, Like, M/M, New Year New Me?, No Homo, Oh, Please Don't Hate Me, THE CHENJI, The Notebook references, WE DON’T SEXUALIZE THE CHILDREN, WayV being crackheads, Whoa, YOU ARE NANA, adjective, and then fics with tags that are longer than the fic itself, because, because of course, coffee shop AU, curse word, did not update for years, for those three people that were wondering, haechan is devil child, haha - Freeform, hehehehehehe, help me tag, i did a q and a, i don’t know, i wrote this instead of sleeping is a tag, in which I am the second one, insert Mark Lee awkwardly dabbing, is fluff, ive seen fics with like two tags, jaemin is a model, just a goat load of one shits, let’s see where this thing goes, literally no one:, love yall, mama kun, mark is good child, markhyuck, me: softly slutdropping at three am, noun, okay i literally spent three minutes trying to spell hawaiian please just read it, okay okay okay, old kun, omg i spelled caffeine wrong smh, omg wait, please wipe me from existence, really ducking fluffy don't at me, root beer and cream soda pop, send help, sleepover, thank you, things happen, well fuck me in the ass and call me a corndog, who needs caffiene, you know what I did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:51:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iuwui/pseuds/iuwui
Summary: Fluff. Angst. ~racy things~Just read it.Please....and, yes I published this in September. Why? I don’t know. Why not?Day .69: SeductionDay 1: ThunderstormsDay 2: ...we’ll be right backDay 3: baby won't ya take a bREAKKKKKKKKKKKKK (coffee break coffee break coffee break)Day 4: CigarettesDay 4.5: and PopDay 5: A Very Merry Sleepover (ft. Ten getting all the mans)Day Not: when I went on kprofiles and tried to determine whether or not I was Mark Lee reincarnateDay 1, 2020: Continuing This Nutty Mess Featuring My Slightly Improved Writing (The Time Taeyong Finds A Child)





	1. Suit, Tie, Innocence Go Bye-Bye

_“I know just how to break you, darling.”_

Jeno inhales, as Jaemin leisurely strolls towards him.

He’s frozen on the couch, wearing a thin cotton t-shirt and gray sweatpants, and Jaemin is-

Well, not to sound like a fanfiction writer on Wattpad, but he’s dressed up, in a black suit, watch and fancy rings glimmering in the low lighting. He’s wearing earrings, and his blonde hair is rakishly tousled, like someone just ran their fingers through it.

Speaking of which, his lips are pinker than usual and slightly parted, confirming Jeno’s suspicion that Mafia Boss ™️  Jaemin just added another person to his list of conquests.

However, Jeno knows Jaemin isn’t here to threaten anyone with a gun.

He’s come to collect his dues, instead.

Jaemin straightens his sleeve cuff.

“I was just downtown, at another formal banquet, while others asked me why I didn’t have a date.”

“Why?” Jeno shakes his head. “You could ask anyone and they’d drop it all for you.”

“Because you wouldn’t.”

Jeno scoffs. “I would. You just didn’t ask.”

Jaemin looks offended for a second, before wiping that expression off his face and glaring at Jeno.

“I’m not here to argue,  _pretty boy.”_

“Then what, pray tell, are you here for?”

Jaemin laughs, quietly, resting his forearms against the couch as he leans over and places his head on Jeno’s shoulder.

Jeno can smell something sour, which means Jaemin’s been drinking again.

No wonder.

Jaemin’s a total lightweight, but give him  _just enough_ and he’ll turn full-on daddy mode.

It’s kind of a problem, but everyone else finds it hilarious when Jaemin shows up at Jeno’s apartment in the middle of the night and tries to seduce him.

“Can you guess?” Jaemin asks, voice low and husky.

“Something tells me alcohol.”

Jaemin lifts his head, and roughly turns Jeno’s face to look at him. 

He drops it, and flips over the side of the couch, landing next to Jeno.

“Do you find this funny?” 

He’s too close for comfort, breath hot on Jeno’s cheeks.

“Do you think this is a joke?”

Jeno deigns from responding, mostly because he’s finding this mildly attractive and  _extremely_ kinky and that’s a problem.

“Well, let me tell you, Jeno.”

Jaemin pauses, and stares deep into his eyes.

“It isn’t to me.”

Jeno stares back, wondering if Jaemin’s going to kiss him or not. 

He’s closer, his breath hitting Jeno, smelling of ripe fruit and expensive cologne, the feel of his rough wool suit the only thing occupying his mind. 

And then Jeno blinks, and lips are on his, and tongue and fingers tugging aggressively on hair and tangling themselves and roughly biting his lip and _oh my god did i just whimper_ and sparks and sweaty skin pressed flush against him and not functioning at all as Jaemin deepens the kiss.

Jeno gasps. “Don’t stop, don’t-“

Jaemin pulls away, leaving Jeno a hot, bothered mess.

“Did you say something?” he asks, entirely too innocently. 

His hair is even more messy, black tie loose around his neck, the clip-on earring in danger of falling off.

Jeno growls, and then slumps back, laughing under his breath in a slightly unhinged way.

“What do you want, then?”

“Promise me you’ll come to the next banquet?”

“What do I get if I say yes?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” Jaemin teases, eyes dancing with mischief.

“I’ll go, then.”

Jaemin doesn’t break eye contact as he leans over and kisses Jeno again, softly and sweetly and all together shattering in a different way.

“That’s what I wanted to hear the first time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing anything close to this. Uh. Feedback, I guess.
> 
> Inspired by one very weird comment on hypegirl’s Divergent fic. Go read it, while you’re at it.


	2. Thunderstorms

The thunder boomed, dark clouds rolling across the sky and blocking the moon.

Chenle flinched, wrapped up like a human burrito, hugging his pillow. He hated storms. It was a stupid, illogical fear, but a fear nonetheless. He preferred being the loudest thing in the ten mile radius, thank you very much.

_ I wish Jisung was here right now, _he thought. 

"Ha, Jisung. Jisung, with his height and deep voice that has half of the NCTzens dying and the other half filled with a new will to live."

Another boom of thunder, and Chenle let out a very high-pitched squeak.

"Stupid, stupid. It's just a storm, it can't hurt you."

Meanwhile, Jisung lay awake, staring out the window. It was impossible to sleep, having the lightning flash before his eyes every so often. He turned over, facing the wall, before flipping back to face the window. 

The lightning struck, probably killing some tree off in the distance. Oh, others made fun of his fear, but people did get struck by lightning, and Jisung would prefer to die in a less electrifying way.

"I wish Chenle was here," he whispered aloud. "Heck, I'll go find him."

Chenle stared at his closet. It was a nice closet, he supposed, but one never thought much about closets unless said closet was the only thing to look at without dying.

Thunder rumbled, and Chenle huddled deeper into his blanket, until only his nose and mouth were visible.

Jisung walked out of his room, clutching his blanket around him, wincing as he stepped on a creaky floorboard. Chenle’s door was slightly cracked open, and he pushed it further.

Chenle watched as the door moved quietly, and decided that the serial killer could dig through a pile of blankets. He disappeared entirely, trying to quiet his breathing.

"Lele?" Jisung announced quietly, opening the door a little. "Are you awake?"

"No." A muffled voice came from under the covers, scratchy and low. “Yes.”

Silence. “Maybe.”

"I'm scared."

"So am I." Chenle’s head peeped out, hair disheveled and hanging over his eyes.

Jisung smiled a little, and asked, “What do you want to do?”

<strike></strike>

_ You. _ *family friendly content ad-blocker* 

He lifted the top half of the blanket, folding it over and falling out of his bed. “Cookies.”

Which is how they found themselves making cookies. From scratch. At one a.m.

They turned a flashlight on, and covered it with a dishtowel, just barely illuminating the kitchen.

Chenle grabbed sugar, salt, baking soda and powder, flour, cake mix, chocolate, bowls, and multiple spoons. He knew he was probably forgetting something, but he could care less.

Jisung carefully opened the flour, but it exploded with a light poof, landing on just about every surface in the kitchen. Mostly on Chenle.

“Oh my god,” Chenle said, bursting into silent giggles.

“Shhhhh!”

“I’m covered with flour, and I’m about to sneeze.” (Bless me achoo- Simon Says be cool)

Jisung made his way around the counter, and covered Chenle’s mouth. “Don’t.”

Chenle shook his head, and a fresh plume of powder rose up and hit Jisung in the face, who sneezed violently. Then he grinned evilly. 

“Oh, it is on.”

Whatever loose materials that could be thrown were thrown- Chenle found a bag of powdered sugar and sprinkled that over Jisung, who in return started smearing chocolate over him, which caused the flour to go full blast.

As Jisung took another handful of chocolate and smeared it over him, Chenle decided that if frontal warfare didn’t work, sabotage might. 

Jisung was still wiping off the last bits of melted semi-sweet chocolate chips onto Chenle’s arms. He looked down at his white shirt, and exclaimed, “Oh, no! My shirt’s all dirty!”

“What do-”

Chenle pulled his shirt off in one swift motion, and smiled at the now-silent Jisung, who was staring. Of course they had seen each other shirtless before, but usually it was under supervised circumstances and wasn’t when they were totally alone.

Jisung continued staring. _ Since when did he have- uh, no, bad Jisung. bAD JISUNG. NO THIRSTING OVER CHILDHOOD FRIENDS. _

Chenle, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, resisted the urge to cover up and instead tried laughing it off. No response.

…haha.

**Fuck.**

He took his finger, swiping off the chocolate on his arm, before gently wiping it across Jisung’s face.

“I win,” he announced, self-satisfied grin spreading across his face.

Jisung put a hand to his face, which was growing hot- hopefully Chenle couldn’t tell.

“We need to clean up.”

Chenle stuck out his tongue, but wet a paper towel and started wiping down the countertop, as Jisung grabbed a towel and cleaned the floor.

Chenle put his shirt back on- to Jisung’s great relief -and acted like nothing had happened. (To Jisung’s disappointment, but they sure weren’t gonna talk about that.)

They filled cups of water- Chenle wasn’t sure if you weren’t supposed to during a storm, but they didn’t die, so YOLO- and sat down as they drank.

Jisung quietly looked at Chenle, wondering where the hell his baby fat went and why he suddenly seemed so gorgeous and unapproachable. 

“What are we gonna do, now?” Chenle asked, snapping Jisung out of his existential crisis.

“I… kind of want to go outside.”

“But the thunderstorm?”

“It stopped.”

Chenle looked out the window, and realized Jisung was right.

“You do know the manager’s going to be pissed, right?”

Jisung flashed a smile, all perfect teeth and squinty eyes, and Chenle melted a little bit. “That’s just an added bonus.”

_ I would follow that smile to the ends of the earth. _

Chenle let out a sigh, and got out of his chair. “So? Let’s go.”

They snuck out, closing the door behind them, all suppressed giggles and hissing at each other.

Jisung challenged Chenle to a race, which caused him to frantically sprint down the hallway and jump down the stairs four at a time. 

He rounded the corner and almost disappeared, laughing like a madman.

Jisung caught up, and Chenle sprinted faster, when he finally hit the ground floor and slammed into the door, which flew open.

The feel of rain on Jisung’s skin was perfectly cool and refreshing for about .4 seconds before he was soaked from head to toe.

Chenle was still giggling, dolphin laugh filling the night.

“Wow,” he gasped, hands on his knees. “I can’t, believe, I just-” he paused for air “-beat you.”

“Surprising.”

Chenle spun around, rain dripping down his hair and- _ goddammit, what was with him and his shirts -_causing his shirt to go see through.

“Fun,” Jisung muttered sarcastically.

“Did you say something?” Chenle asked, still twirling like a child as the rain poured down harder.

The only source of light was the street lamp at the corner, and the shadows cast across Chenle’s face- _ why did Jisung want kiss him? _

Whomst.

Whomst the actual fu-

Whomst’d’ve’lu’yaint’nt’ed’ies’s’y’es’nt’t’re’ing’able’tic’ive’al’nt’ne’m’ll’ble’al’ny?

Chenle looked up at Jisung, who was standing with a conflicted look on his face, rain falling around him, ethereal yet very much solid.

“Hey.”

Jisung snapped out of it. “Hi.”

Chenle walked towards him, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Are you okay?”

“It depends on your definition of okay.”

“Oh, come on, Jisung. You have to tell me how you’re feeling _ sometimes._”

Jisung started walking towards the lamp post, kicking a small pebble along. Chenle followed, taking extra steps to keep up with him.

“Really, what’s wrong?”

“...have you ever liked someone?”

“What?” Chenle asked.

_ Oh. Of course. _ Jisung was talented, tall, and good-looking- obviously he would have a crush.

Lucky them.

“Have you ever liked someone?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I really don’t think so.”

Jisung’s face dropped slightly.

“I mean, there’s not really any time. Who is it?”

Jisung looked down, blushing. “It’s kind of awkward, since I haven’t… told them yet?”

“Wait, seriously? But you’re Park Jisung! Everyone loves you! Half of the world is whipped for you!”

Jisung stared at Chenle, shaking his head. “No, you don’t understand!”

“Pssh, I’ve seen you crying like a baby, laughing like a maniac, and getting yelled at by Renjun-hyung after you ate cereal on his bed. There’s no room for judgement anymore.”

Jisung exhaled, watching a water droplet make its way down the side of Chenle’s neck.

“...i lik…”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I like you, okay?”

“Oh, thanks- wait, what?!”

Chenle gaped, gesturing between the two of them. “You. Like. Me?!”

Jisung nodded, ducking his head and feeling blood furiously rushing to his face. He probably looked like a tomato.

Chenle started laughing. “Jisung, how? You’re this multi-talented _ god _ and I look like a drowned rat right now.”

Jisung lifted his head and looked right at Chenle. “No, I like you. I honestly mean it.”

Chenle’s gay panic has been **activated**.

“I love you, too! Wait- no- oh my god, sorry.”

Jisung grinned. “See, that’s one of the reasons why I like you. You compliment others, and you can’t accept a compliment yourself.”

Chenle spluttered. “I can, too!”

“Quick, name one occurance.”

“...touché.”

Jisung just stared at Chenle again, memorizing every single feature as a shy smile spread across his face.

_ Never forget this, okay? _

“Ah, so are we- like- a thing?”

“What, does the famous Zhong Chenle want to be my boyfriend? I can’t believe it!”

“Hey! Stop!” Chenle yelped, burying his face in his hands.

“Yes, I want to be your boyfriend, stupid.” 

Jisung unfurled Chenle’s fingers and held his left hand.

Interlocked.

It felt so new, but so familiar.

“Now, come on, let’s go inside before you catch cold.”

~~~

“How did both of you get sick?!” Jaemin exclaims exasperatedly, balancing a pot of chicken soup on his right hip.

“I don’t know,” Chenle replies, (somewhat truthfully) before reaching for another tissue. His nose is pink and swollen, and tender to touch.

Jisung simply lets out an apathetic groan and buries his face in his pillow.

“We have a concert in a week! You better get well before that!”

“Omma~” Jisung whines, waving his limp arm towards Jaemin’s general direction. “Please go away.”

He sends a subtle glance to Chenle, who hopefully catches the drift. You know, because Chenle’s the master of subterfuge.

“‘Omma? _ Omma?! _Do I look like your mother?!”

“No, but you nag like her,” Chenle says, smiling.

“This is why there’s no point in raising children.” Jaemin storms off, back to the kitchen, pot of soup under his arm. “I don’t understand why I bother.”

“Because you love us?” Jisung calls weakly after him.

“Dude, we’re so sick.” Chenle starts coughing again, as if to prove a point.

“And who’s fault is that, exactly?”

_ They said they were going to go inside, but ended up staying under a tree for the next two hours, laughing and teasing and finally cuddling next to each other. Chenle fit perfectly, tucked into Jisung’s neck with his arms wrapped around him like a security blanket. _

“Yours.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Chenle gets up, wrapped in his blanket, and grins sweetly as he swiftly kisses Jisung on the nose.

“Anything for you, _ babe.”_

Jisung blushes, turns over, and Chenle laughs as he settles back into the couch, huddling in his blanket.

He could do this for forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make Chenji really sweet and fluffy because there’s like... smut? And no? These children are 17?!?!
> 
> ...which is why I still ship ‘em.
> 
> Send help.
> 
> Please. Please, give me feedback. Don’t even leave a kudos. Just give me something to work with. Tell me you love it. Tell me you hate it. Tell me ANYTHING.


	3. Him

_ Everything comes at a price. _

That’s my one rule, my life motto. 

_What am I sacrificing?_

_What will I gain?_

_Is this worth it?_

_Is anything worth it?_

These are the words flashing through my head, as I look up, my body battered, my face bruised and bloody. 

They say there’s no stronger hate than the hate of someone who once loved you.

Once upon a time, I thought he was worth it.

He looks down, face drawn, lips pressed together tightly. He’s hurting, but trying not to show it.

I laugh, weakly. “You were always trying to hide your pain. Is it working?”

He grits his teeth, and stomps down on the back of my leg. What was a fracture becomes a break, but not a clean one. This is worse than I’ve ever felt.

Splintering.

Shattering.

A million brittle pieces.

Fitting.

I scream, raw and red, the pain scratching my throat, the sound of pure agony. I go limp. Turn around, onto my back, trying not to move my leg. 

I stare up at his face. It’s the same, as always, and his eyes still look like they’re smiling. There’s a new scar, and curving down his cheek. Marred.

He sees me looking. I try to memorize every feature, knowing it’ll be the last thing I see. I want him to be the last thing forever.

“Do you have any last words?”

I smile for real this time, one that splits my cracked lips and makes my cheeks hurt, a smile of pure sunshine, a smile I have waited my whole life to give. Blood trickles into my mouth.

“I love you.”

His hand drops to his side. 

The knife clatters on the pavement.

“You’re not allowed to say that,” he whispers, voice on the verge of tears.

“You aren’t allowed to _say _that_,_ ” he repeats, stronger, loud enough for the microphones to pick up.

“Take it back.”

I say nothing.

“Take it BACK!”

Silence.

“You can’t do this to me.”

He glares, eyes dull and glassy, the numb eyes of a killer who’s done so much he no longer knows.

He’s the one I loved.

Love.

He’s no one to me.

If only I believed it.

“You know you have to kill me.”

He starts to shake, starts to cry.

“No.”

“Kill me.”

“I can’t-“

“You can.”

He’s sobbing now, fresh tears running down his face.

“Kill. Me.”

His hand trembles as he picks up his knife.

“You’ve done this before. Just one more time.”

He takes a deep breath.

Holds up the knife.

I close my eyes.

Finally, finally, finally.

Peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, this is just filler from the pits of my Notes because I have a physics test tomorrow and a sis didn’t study.
> 
> We got some 127 ships coming up.
> 
> Brace yourself.


	4. Coffee Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I started writing this in August, planning to make it a series, but I never got around to making a plot.
> 
> So here, have a one shot.

Jaemin. 

Was. 

Tired.

After modeling for a straight eight hours, he needed coffee. Preferably with eight shots of espresso. 

He’d stolen his manager Renjun’s dark chocolate pretzels in the car ride, but after being told by a slightly crazy dictator (oops, director) where to put his hand, and tilt his head up a little more, and look a little lazier, but not that lazy, and yanked around like a puppet on a string, he needed something to keep going. 

Because Lord knew he didn’t want to.

“Gah, he was so condescending!” Jaemin complained, Renjun nodding half-heartedly while answering another email.

“It’s my fifth year modeling, he specifically asked for someone with experience, and then proceeded to control everything I did! I think I’d know what makes me look good on camera by now! He criticized me every single time! _Every. Single. Time! _Other directors are clambering to get me to model for them, and he treats me like a child. A child! Lenjunnie, are you even listening?”

“Yes, Nana.”

Some would wonder why Jaemin had such a lax relationship with his manager, but being childhood friends/lots of drunken one night stands might’ve had something to do with it.

“Please don’t sign me up for another shoot with him. Anyone but him.”

“Okay, add him to the list of directors that you don’t like.” Renjun pulled up his notes and scrolled down to one titled, “People to Avoid Because Na Jaemin is a Whiny Brat.” 

“Hey!” Jaemin protested. “It’s like, three people right now! I’m not whiny, either!”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure about that?”

“Lenjunnieeeeeee...” Jaemin whined, slumping into his manager’s lap. “You’re mean. Where’s the nearest cafe?”

“Well,” Renjun whispered into Jaemin’s ear, breath warm and voice husky, fixing an errant strand of hair, and basically seducing him in the backseat of a car, “-we’ll just have to find it.”

Jaemin shifted so he was staring at Renjun’s face. “You suck.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Might I remind you that you hired me?”

“And I can fire you, too.”

“Please, we both know when I leave, it’ll be my call. You’d die without me.” He typed something into his phone, the light clickity-clack a familiar sound. “There’s a cafe near us, a latte shop.”

“That’s so...cutesy.”

“It’s the closest. We’re pulling up to it. Don’t embarrass yourself. Or me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stretched, and yawned.

“Oh my god, you’re like a child. A hyperactive, bratty child that runs on sugar and caffeine.”

“You forgot hot and young.”

“More like young and freaky.” *cackles in NCT references*

Jaemin pushed himself back into an upright position. “Are we there yet?”

“Actually, yes. Get out.”

Jaemin stumbled into the coffee shop, which was straight out of a cliché. A little patio outside, cobblestone and blooming flowers. Fancy white script read, “Cafe Coffee: A Whole Latte Love”. 

He opened the door, and a little bell jingled. The inside was small, cozy, and welcoming, filled with the smell of mocha and- God, yes -roasting coffee beans.

“Coffee,” Jaemin moaned, tilting back his head and parting his mouth in a way that was definitely not PG.

“You’re freaking people out. This isn’t a porno.”

“I could always-“

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Renjun warned.

“It smells so good,” Jaemin continued. “So warm, so thick, uGH. I could drown here.”

“Please just order before I die from disgust.”

“Mmm...”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean it, Lenjunida.”

“Order before I drag you out.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Renjun sighed and headed up to the counter, pulling Jaemin along by a jacket sleeve. The barista looked mildly confused, before smiling. “Hi, welcome to Cafe Coffee! How may I help you?”

“Can I have a large iced coffee with however many shots of espresso it can contain without killing me? Wait. Strike that. If it kills me, it’ll be a bonus.”

Jaemin gave the boy behind the counter an award-winning smile. His name tag read Jisung, and hair was dyed a light orange-pink.

“Sir, are you sure you want _ twenty-one _shots of espresso?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose. “Are you su-”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Jisung breathed in. _ Do it for the tip. _

“And what’s your name?”

“Na Jaemin.”

“Anything for you, sir?” He asked Renjun.

“I’ll take a small hot chocolate. No whipped cream.”

“That’ll be ₩9,000.”

“Noice,” Jaemin said. “I’m paying, Renjun.”

“You left your wallet in the car.”

“No, I didn’t!” Jaemin triumphantly flourished his Gucci wallet, sending Jisung a wink worthy of its own anime.

_ Wtf _?

“Sir, are you going to pay?”

“Ah, yes.”

Jaemin swiped his platinum card, signed it with a flourish, and dropped a American hundred dollar bill in the tip jar. 

Jisung stared. He snapped out of his stupor, and emptied the last of the hot chocolate into the small cup. The dregs were the best part, less like a drink and more like melted chocolate. Yeri was going to be so pissed that she didn’t get it. He put a lid on, and set it aside. He scooped ice into a large plastic cup, filled it to the top with coffee, adding each shot of espresso in at a time.

He shook his head slowly, then called out, “Jaemin?”

Jaemin lept towards the iced coffee, and started sucking it down like his life depended on it.

Renjun grabbed his cup with an apologetical shrug, and herded Jaemin out the door.

“Have a great day, Jisung!” Jaemin yelled.

“Uh... you too?” Jisung watched the door slam shut, and prepared to close the cafe.

Jaemin sighed happily on they were in the car, still sipping his drink. “Today was a good day, Lenjunnie, huh?”

Renjun gave no reply, and took a drink of his hot chocolate, a small smile on his face.

“Looook, you’re smiling!” Jaemin poked the side of Renjun’s face. “Renjunida?”

“Yeah, I’m smiling, but it doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed in you.”

“Why, it’s history! We always need to live in the past and bask in our glory!”

“You’ve been in countless magazines, Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar and runways, photoshoots for Gucci and Calvin Klein, been in movies, television shows, billboards, too many advertisements to count, released your own album- who does that? _ who does that? _ -ranked 42 on Time’s Most Influential People, you’re currently valued at around twelve million U.S. dollars, and you think tipping a teenager a hundred dollars is your legacy? And American dollars? Where will he use that?”

Jaemin blinked once, slowly. “You forgot to mention youngest model at Seoul Fashion Week, but sure, I’ll be remembered as the guy who tipped someone a hundred dollars.”

Renjun sighed and sipped his hot chocolate again, decidedly ignoring Jaemin.

Jaemin shrugged it off- his loss -and went back to drinking. The streets of Seoul passed on by, and Jaemin continued with his life.

He started his own company.

Made out with Renjun- sober.

Managed to scout Jisung, of all people.

Fell in love. 

Started a boy group.

Fought with Renjun.

Met a former model named Jeno. 

Ran away for three months.

Got married in America.

But every time he had the chance, he returned to the cafe, and tipped a hundred dollars to the barista.

An _American_ hundred dollar bill.

~Fin


	5. Cigarettes and Pop (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haechan's a player.
> 
> Mark's a goody-two-shoes.
> 
> Part 1: Cigarettes

The bell rang, and as Mrs. Anderson called out, “Don’t forget to buy tickets to the Winter Ball!” amongst the rustling of papers, Mark was already halfway out the door. 

His backpack was slung over his shoulder, and he stopped by his locker to grab his math textbook, where Lee Donghyuck was waiting, wry smile on his face.

Donghyuck- or Haechan, as he liked to be called, was trouble.

The only other Korean kid in their all-white school, in a tiny town smack down in the middle of Wisconsin. He skipped regularly and still managed to be in all honors and advanced courses. He was… different. 

White t-shirts, blue jeans, leather jacket, and the devil’s smile, a cigarette between his fingers half of the time. 

Keep in mind, Mark’s hung out with this kid, like, twice, and never one-on-one.

“Mark Lee, would you do me the great pleasure of seeing a movie?”

“What?”

Mark really wasn’t sure how to feel about this, but he was already here at the cinema, on a cold Friday afternoon, and Haechan had bought tickets to see “Love Story”, of all things.

As he walked a little faster than usual to keep up with Haechan, he glanced at the receipt sticking out of his jeans pocket. “‘Love Story’?”

Haechan raised his eyebrows. “I’ve always found straight relationships to be hilarious.”

They walked into Theater 3, which was almost empty, save for one couple in the back corner- Mark knew they would be making out the entire movie, which was gonna be just lovely.

Mark was quietly tearing up as “Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” played, when he looked over at Haechan, who was shaking, head in his hands.

_ Was he crying? _

Mark quickly shook him, and whispered, “Hey- are you okay?”

Haechan glanced up, eyes wet, wheezing as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, continuing to lose his shit.

“Do you just come here to mock the movie?”

“I mean, high-key, but it’s interesting when your date actually cares about the movie.”

“What do you usually do, then?” Mark challenged, eyes drifting to the couple in the corner, who were really getting into it- he couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended, while lewd noises drifted above the actors. “Oh. Never mind.”

Haechan snorted, running his hand through his hair and messing it up. “How innocent of you.”

“Do you really want to stay here?”

“Is responsible Mark Lee deciding to ditch something for once?”

“Stop mocking me. And yes.”

“Well, then,” Haechan said, wicked grin spreading across his face as he stood up and stretched, “Lead the way.”

Mark got out of his seat, grabbed his backpack, and walked out the back entrance, Haechan trailing behind.

“So, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, where are we going?”

“The park.”

Mark finds the only park in town to be rather quiet, quaint sort of place that no one bothers to come to anymore. The memorial is covered in snow, as is the playground, but the bench is cleared, because he likes staying there, sitting and contemplating things.

He was regretting not wearing a heavier jacket, as Haechan twirled his cigarette between his fingers. Mark looked awkwardly off to the side.

“Um, so, are you gonna sit?” he asked, setting his backpack onto the bench.

“Do you want me to?”

“I- I don’t know-”

Haechan laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Seriously, you need to loosen up a bit more.”

“I’m fine, thank you very much,” Mark snapped, then regretted, as Haechan looked at him with newfound respect.

“Feisty when I aggravate you. Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mark didn’t respond, and stared at the playground swings, covered with snow.

Haechan pulled out a lighter, and lit a flame, briefly touching it to the tip of his cigarette.

“Ah- you shouldn’t do that,” Mark warned, tapping Haechan’s cigarette.

“The health hazards?” Haechan glanced at Mark sideways, lit cigarette sending smoke up into the air. 

Mark personally despised smoking-  _ not _ because he was a goody-two-shoes, but because he almost died. PTSD, one might say.

“No, actually, because I walked through my uncle’s smoke cloud when I was really young- maybe three years old?- and which triggered an asthma attack. Then I almost died. Needless to say, he hasn’t been invited to Thanksgiving in a while.”

Haechan started laughing, and put his cigarette out in the snow, before crushing the end with his boot. “Well, Mark Lee, I can assure you that my virgin lips have never once touched a cigarette and inhaled.”

“So you-”

“-Just pretend to smoke to keep other people away? Perhaps.”

Haechan casually hooked his jeans strap with his thumb, and winked at Mark. 

“But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Mark was definitely not sure how to process this newfound information- was he even processing it? Or was he still gaping like an idiot? -and wondered what the fluttering feeling somewhere in the pit of stomach was.

_ Wait. Shit. Were these… feelings? _

_ Well, fuck me in the ass and call me a corndog. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hypegirl and I were talking, once again, and she said she wanted a 70s aesthetic Markhyuck.
> 
> Honestly at this point this isn't even Fictober, it's update every-three-days-tober.
> 
> Forgive me, procrastination is my middle name.


	6. Cigarettes and Pop (Part Two)

Mark was definitely not sure how to process this newfound information- was he even processing it? Or was he still gaping like an idiot? -and wondered what the fluttering feeling somewhere in the pit of stomach was.

_ Wait. Shit. Were these… feelings? _

_ Well, fuck me in the ass and call me a corndog. _

_ _

_ ~~~ _

“I won’t,” Mark promised, looking into Haechan’s eyes.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Mark turned away, flustered, and Haechan started walking around, whistling between his teeth.

_ What was he supposed to do, what was he supposed to do, this got awkward, why don’t schools give lessons on how to socialize with hot guys that make butterflies flit around in your stomach what help please god if you exist shoot me down right here and make it less awkward _

_ Step 1: Find an excuse to talk to them. _

Haechan left his flask behind. Why the kid even had a flask, Mark didn’t know, but he supposed using whiskey to stay awake in History was a good enough excuse as it got.

Liquid courage, huh?

Mark uncapped the bottle, and coughed as the sour liquid made his way down his throat.

He had always heard whiskey went down smooth, but whatever the heck Haechan put in there was awful. All of a sudden, a throbbing started at his temples.

Mark took a deep breath, and started walking, intent on catching Haechan as he made his merry way down the brick pathway.

“Hey, Haechan, you for- oH MY GOD-”

The “OH MY GOD” was, of course, because Mark slipped on a patch of ice and went careening into Haechan, whose expression went from confused to horrified in a split second.

Mark would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t so sure he had bruised his elbow to the point of no return. He felt… woozy. It was really funny, the sky. Haechan’s face had been hilarious. Was Haechan okay? Wow, the sky was gray.

But that wasn’t right!

The sky was blue!

Why was he so dizzy?

Somebody snapped their fingers above his head, and Mark looked up at it blearily.

“Huh?”

“Hey, Lee! Hello?”

“Haha, that’s funny. Lee. My name isn’t Lee, my name’s Mark! Your last name is Lee. Wait. You’re named Lee. I’m named Lee. If we got married, our last name would be Lee to the second power.”

“Why the hell are you a nerd, even when you’re suffering from a concussion?” Haechan muttered, letting out a swear as he hoisted Mark up, wrapping his arm around his waist. 

Under any other circumstances, Mark would’ve been estatic, but seeing as he could barely move his limbs, his brain was functioning at a rate of nonexistent.

“And why are you so heavy?”

“Don’t fat shame me for being 995 kilograms,” Mark whispered, tearing up a little.

“Are you crying?”

“Yeah, because you’re being mean and your whiskey tastes like crap which means I lost my alcohol virginity to some kind of cheap fermented fruit.”

“First off, never say ‘alcohol virginity’ again. Secondly, that’s not whiskey, that’s lemon juice.” Haechan deadpanned, looking straight at Mark’s face. “Now actually try and help me carry you to the bench.”

“Wait, so I’m not even drunk?” Mark asked, realization slowly dawning on him.

“Not remotely. But you’re probably mildly concussed and in several states of shock and denial.”

“I am not!”

“See? Denial.”

Haechan helped Mark to the bench, and sat down. Mark slumped over and rested his head on Haechan’s shoulder.

“Oh, come on,” Haechan complained, stifling a smile.

“I’m tired,” Mark yawned. “Just let me rest my eyes, okay? Five minutes.” 

“Mark Lee, don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“I need to get you home, you can’t just- come on.”

“Geddit,” Mark mumbled drowsily.

Haechan shifted, in an attempt to get Mark off. Mark moved and fell over Haechan’s lap, eyes closed and head facing the sky.

Haechan sighed, gave up on moving, and watched Mark’s chest fall up and down rhythmically. At least he wasn’t dead.

His eyelashes were surprisingly long, fluttering slightly. His hair curled a little around the edges- Haechan found that incredibly cute. 

_ Mark had nice hair, and hands, _ Haechan decided, staring at the boy lying on top of him.

After a while, he nodded off, but not before wrapping his arm protectively around Mark.

Mark wasn’t sure how he woke up, or when he woke up, but he felt something wrapped around his chest- snug and comforting, almost like a seat belt.

The sun was touching the horizon, and Mark stared up at Haechan, head nodding slightly.

“Haechan?” Mark lifted his hand and impulsively rested it against his cheek.

His eyes flew open. “What?”

“What time is it?”

“How am I supposed to know? It’s late, I guess.”

“My mom probably think I’m dead at this point.” Mark noted, still not moving from Haechan’s lap.

“Yeah, we should get you home,” Haechan said.

Mark wasn’t sure why the word _ we _ made him so giddy, but raised himself up and grabbed his backpack with a huff.

“Is that too heavy?”

“I’m fine,” Mark responded, tripping and veering slightly to the left.

“Whoa, now. Sit your ass back down, Mark Lee.”

“It’s okay, I swear!”

Haechan leaned down slightly and lifted Mark’s backpack. “Anything important in here?”

“A small fortune in school textbooks.”

“Well, your small fortune in school textbooks will be in my hands.”

Mark protested, but Haechan shut him up with a single glance. “Let’s go.”

They walked for a while in silence, and as soon as they exited the park, Mark piped up.

“My house is in the opposite direction.”

“We’re taking the long way back.”

They walked down Main Street, where the pharmacy, diner, and grocery stood. Mark could see some of their classmates inside the pharmacy, laughing as they sipped their floats.

Haechan stopped at the end of the street, where the corner store was.

“Why are we here?” Mark asked, as Haechan passed the backpack back.

“Just wait.” He entered the store, the bell jingled once, and Mark stood out alone in the cold.

Mark shifted from foot to foot, finally settling on standing next traffic light. The pharmacy door swung open, letting out a stream of popular kids- jocks, football team members, idiotic meat sacks, whatever. And to make matters worse, they were with their girlfriends. Great. They’d probably harass him to make the girls laugh. 

Haechan materialized out of thin air, holding two bottles of pop- cream and root beer, respectively.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, totally.” Mark warily eyed the popular kids, who were all walking towards them, the girl giggling behind their palms. They stopped, maybe twenty feet away.

Jason (the ringleader, the big kahuna, least intelligent, etc.) continued moving, and Haechan ignored him.

“Hey, faggots.”

“Dickwad.” Haechan replied, taking another cigarette out from his pocket.

“Fuck you,” Jason spat, glancing back nervously to gauge Kimberly Ann’s reaction. 

Unimpressed.

Way to go, Kimberly Ann.

“I’d rather not, because unlike you, I actually have standards.”

“Do you want to fight?”

“Well…” In one fliud motion, Haechan popped the root beer cap and spilled the contents over Jason’s head. Root beer matted his blonde hair, mixing with whatever gross product he used and dripping into his eyes.

“Remind me to never drink root beer again,” Haechan quipped, before sprinting.

He grabbed onto Mark’s hand, and they ran off.

“Quick, turn here!” Mark yelled, pulling Haechan onto a street he recognized.

Haechan started laughing, and then Mark was laughing and he had a cramp and they fell over onto somebody’s lawn, leaving a perfect imprint of two crackheads in the snow. 

Haechan’s right hand opened, and there lay the bottle of cream soda pop.

“How is that still intact?”

“Magic. Anyways, it’s yours.”

“Do you want to split it?” Mark asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

He twisted the cap off. Foam spilled over the snow-covered sides, and he put the bottle to his mouth and drank, savoring the sweet vanilla.

Mark passed it to Haechan, who drank it, still lying down, and spluttered as he choked. 

Mark lost it, wheezed, and ended in the snow next to Haechan. 

“How’d you know cream soda was my favorite?”

“You know, vanilla kid, vanilla drink.”

“Hey!”

“Are we close to your house? You seemed familiar with this route. Unless, of course, you dragged me here to murder me.”

“Love how there’s only, ‘oh, he must live here’, or, ‘oh, he’s gonna kill me’ as your two thought processes.”

“Stop using big words, Lee, I’m too tired.”

“And to answer your question, yes, I live close to here.”

“I’m still walking you home.”

Mark got up, and pulled Haechan up by his arms.

“Let’s go.”

Snow came down, large, fluffy flakes that fell on top of Haechan’s hair. They landed on his leather jacket, melted on his eyelashes, and he tilted his head back, trying to catch one in his mouth.

Mark watched him, captivated by the way he leaned back and stuck out the tip of his tongue.

“We’re here,” he announced, strangely sad. If somebody had told him a week, or even twelve hours ago, that he would be sad to leave Haechan, he would’ve cried from laughter.

“Oh.” Haechan looked down at his feet, glanced up, and smiled. “So, this is it?”

“I kind of wanted to give you something, first.”

Mark breathed in.

Focused on Haechan’s lips.

Haechan, of all people.

Leaned in.

Lightly fitted his lips against another boy’s.

And he could smell the remnants of smoke, and taste sweet vanilla, feel cold hands gently lifting to his face.

Cigarettes and pop, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this to be very short. My brain did not agree. I hoped y'all liked it. Make sure to give me love because I'm a needy gardening tool. Side note: cross country has been kicking my butt lately and the only good thing is I have time to dwell on what I'm gonna do next but forget about it immediately.


	7. McDeath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Dorm 416.
> 
> They're all on crack.
> 
> College roommate au.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to that one person on omegle who basically conversed through *mark lee giggles* and inside jokes
> 
> you're my new best friend
> 
> >:C

“You know, I used to think we had something.” Kun voiced towards the ceiling, glancing over at Ten. 

It’s two a.m., which usually equates to emotion dumping.

“How was I supposed to know? I was stupid, confused, and I had people constantly telling me, ‘Oh, you like him, don’t you?’. I’m not sure what my own feelings were, and now that I look back, I can’t separate what was true and what wasn’t.”

Kun blinked.

Ten usually didn’t share this much.

“Well- I’m sorry I couldn’t read your mind,” Ten finished. 

From any other of his many personalities, it would’ve been insincere and sarcastic, but semi-conscious and sugar-high Ten was worse than drunk Ten. 

It said a lot about what Kinder Eggs did to the guy.

Kun laughed, a little bitterly. “It’s all in the past _ now_, isn’t? You and Taeyong are perfect for each other, one last year of college before graduate school.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ten reached for the nightstand in between them. Unwrapped a Starburst. Spat it back into the wrapper.

“Gross, yellow.”

“Pass the McDeath, you’ve been hogging it for the past two hours.”

Contrary to popular belief, McDeath had nothing to do with McDonald’s.

It consisted of M&M’s, Skittles, Smartfood Popcorn, Flavor Blasted Pizza Goldfish, Nilla Wafers, and Matcha Kit-Kats. One could add dark chocolate covered espresso beans or sour gummy worms, if desired. Xiaojun, their old roommate, doused it in Sriracha once. 

That had been an experience. 

Best served with leftover noodles (Kun preferred drunken, Ten liked pad thai) and Monster Coffee™ (exactly what it sounded like) whenever they needed to pull all-nighters.

It also worked well in sleepover environments.

Kun wasn’t sure whether their late night talks would be considered a sleepover, but if they were going by schedule, Hendery and Yangyang would be destroying something soon.

_ Thud_.

A high-pitched screech.

Kun rolled his eyes, snatched the bowl of McDeath from Ten’s hands, and stormed out into their common area.

Hendery was lying on the floor in a fetal position.

Yangyang stood with his hands clasped together, eyes deceptively wide.

It would’ve worked if he hadn’t been standing on the couch.

“What did you do?”

Hendery let out a groan. “Well, we were trying to-”

“-Nothing!” Yangyang cut in.

The third dorm door flew open, and Winwin angrily felt his way down the hallway.

“Who’s causing the racket?! I need to sleep.”

Lucas followed, rubbing his eyes. “Please, you haven’t slept more than three hours per night since the Labor Day weekend.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m trying to sleep,” Winwin snapped.

Ten hopped out of their dorm room, wrapped in Kun’s fuzziest blanket.

“Ooh, what’s happening? Is there still popcorn?”

“Stay away from the McDeath, hoe,” Winwin yelled.

“What did I do now?”

“Huh, I don’t know, _ flirt with my boyfriend for four hours gay last night_?”

“Yuta Nakamoto’s a hot bisexual playboy who looks like an anime character. You’re his first relationship, and I was drunk off my ass.”

Winwin spluttered.

Yangyang had ended up on the floor with Hendery, dying from laughter.

“I… cannOT-” *insert wheeze cough gasp asthmatic duck Roblox death sound* (don’t even deny it, you’ve totally done it) “-BREATH ohmygodohmygod.”

Lucas yawned. “Okay, cool. Nice talk. I’m going to bed. Good morning.”

He walked into the wall, and stumbled back. “Maybe I’ll just stay here, then.”

“You know what this means…” Hendery started, sly smile spreading across his face.

“-SLEEPOVER!” Yangyang shrieked, throwing one of Kun’s decorative pillows straight across the room. Granted, it wasn’t that impressive, considering the room itself was the size of a very spacious shoebox, but it set the vibe on the entirely wrong foot and destroyed Kun’s hopes of a somewhat normal sleepover.

Winwin threw Ten another death glare, and came back with his arms piled with blankets.

Lucas rummaged through the bathroom and dug up his Korean face masks.

Yangyang took out another package of headbands.

Kun and Ten moved the coffee table to the side, and shifted all of the couches.

Hendery brought the swag.

“Hendery, remove the sunglasses.”

“The swag stops for no man.”

Kun sighed and sat down on the sofa.

“Now that the third informal sleepover of this year has been established, what are we here for?”

“Gossip, obviously,” Ten said, stretching over Yangyang like a cat.

“Get off, you big lump of oatmeal.”

“I heard there was a boy in your class that you like~” Ten sang.

“N-no!”

“We knew you had it in you, you idiot!” Hendery squealed, grabbing Yangyang and giving him a violent noogie.

“You had a crush on Ten for all last year,” Winwin reminded, cucumber face mask plastered carefully across his face.

Hendery let out a squeak and hid his face.

“Oh yes, the joys of rooming with a big group of chaotic gays.” Lucas commented, taking a handful of McDeath and cramming it into his mouth. He was met with a chorus of groans.

“That’s _ nasty, _ man.”

“Sick. As in, sick in the head.”

“Truly, he’s lost all remaining brain cells.” 

“No, that’s Kun.”

“Isn’t Kun the old man?”

“I cOoK fOr yOu, I cLeAn fOr yOU, I dEdIcATe mY liFE tO oUr LoRD aNd sAvIOr jEsuS ChRisT, aND tHiS iS tHE THanKs i gEt?”

“Sounds about right.”

“Kun, I’m hungry.”

“Take the McDeath.”

“The M&M’s melted because of Lucas.”

“Guess I’m just too hot to handle, huh?”

“Shut up.”

The night- well, morning -slowly dissolved into chaos.

Then Winwin fell asleep, hugging a pillow and turning to face away from the boys. 

“You know what this means,” Yangyang said, punctuating the statement with an eyebrow wiggle. 

“Hid the Sharpies already,” Kun said, triumphant smile on his face.

“Killjoy.” Hendery harrumphed. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Ten immediately answered. 

Yangyang whispered into Hendery’s ear, “Why does confidence ooze from his every pore? What the ding dang finklehopper?”

“Hush, Yangyang. I dare you… to order me a pizza.”

“Hey!”

“I’m hungry, and Kun is stingy.”

“You can’t-”

“-he totally can, you asked for a dare.”

Hendery turned to Yangyang and grinned. “Didn’t Renjun say he worked at the pizza shop off-campus? Tell them to send their cutest delivery boy.”

“Fine, I’m ordering the pizza,” Ten said, pulling up the app on his phone.

“Yes. Order the pizza.” Lucas parroted, in a half-decent imitation of Ten’s voice.

“Oh, no. We aren’t letting you near the pizza until hell freezes over.” 

“Don’t swear in front of the kids!” Kun warned.

“Oh, come on. They don’t care. Do you care?”

“No, not really.”

“Says the person who only swears when insulting people.”

“The formula is simple. Adjective, cuss word, noun. For example: Ten is being a cowardly dick banana.”

Kun choked. “Please never say that again.”

“Make me, you elderly ass croissant.”

“Truth or dare, Yangyang?” Ten interrupted.

“Dare. But first, what pizza did you get?”

“Hawaiian.”

“You repulsive fuck alpaca. What monster puts pineapple on pizza?!”

“Shut up. Uh… okay, I dare you to call your ex.”

“You know she’s extreme.”

“That’s the point.”

“We parted on not-great terms.”

“Also a point. I’m trying to see you get insulted by crazy ex.”

“Are you trying to make me regret being straight for the first eighteen years of my life?”

“yES.”

“God, here goes nothing.” Yangyang reached for the coffee table, unplugged his phone, and unlocked it. He scrolled through his contacts, until he reached “Crazy Psychotic Asian”.

He pressed call, and immediately, someone picked up.

“What do you want, Liu?”

Ten winced. “Harsh.”

“Uh, heyyy, Lan.”

“That’s Alannah to you.”

“Yeah, so, uh, how’s it going?”

“Your ex-girlfriend is currently sobbing on my shoulder, you egotistical bitch lunatic.” Faint crying sounds could be heard through the speaker, and Lucas’ eyebrows shot up.

“Damn, then. Okay. Have a nice day.” A large honk punctuated the air as Yangyang hung up.

He put his phone back on the table and faced Ten.

“There. Happy now?”

“No, there wasn’t any drama. I get to ask you another question.”

“We did not agree on that,” Yangyang protested.

“I think he should.” Hendery piped up, giving Yangyang a slightly evil grin.

“Same.”

“Do whatever the heck you want, it’s not like I can control you.”

“Wait, does that mean-”

“-no, Hendery, I’m not giving you the Sharpies.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t try pouting, it wore out after the first time.”

“Guys. We’re getting off topic. But Yangyang, I’m dying to know. What events led up to the breakup?”

“Uh, okay. So I met her through mutual friends-”

Lucas whistled.

“Shut up!” Yangyang hissed. “I thought she was cute, she thought I was… uh, conventionally attractive. We went mini-golfing.”

“oOooOooOOh,” Hendery said, popping a gummy worm into his mouth. “Spicy.”

“You’re all going to hell.”

“We know, darling. What’re’ya gonna do about it?”

“Ten, do you want the story or not?”

“Not if it’s going to be boring. Skip to the juicy details.”

“So she cheated on me-”

Kun did a spit take, and the water he had been drinking flew across the room and landed on Winwin, whose eyes were still open.

Again.

He slept.

With his eyes.

Open.

Kun would’ve called the boy the devil incarnate, but he roomed with Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.

“What the fuck, man?” Winwin muttered, pushing himself into an upright position.

“Yangyang over here is a regular Lon Hammond Jr.”

“For the last time, stop making obscene references that none of us understand, Ten,” Winwin said, rolling his eyes.

“Nah, we’ve all watched ‘The Notebook’.”

“What’s ‘The Notebook’?” Lucas asked, confusion written clearly across his face.

“Remember, the old man and woman are in love and then there’s a flashback and both of them die? I could’ve sworn you cried for an hour after that.”

“Hendery, you and I both know I block out traumatic experiences.”

“Bitc-”

“DO YOU WANT TO HEAR THE STORY OR NOT?!” Yangyang screamed.

A banging sound came over the side of the wall. “sHUT UP, ROOM 416!”

Kun blew out a breath.

An awkward silence ensued.

“You know, I’m still mad about us not being in 420.” Hendery piped up.

“She cheated on me, I found out, yadda yadda yadda, I was like, ‘Cool, I guess.’ I didn’t want to be tied down heading to college on the other side of the country. Like, I was going to break up with her before the end of the week, so she gave me an excuse. She, of course, doesn’t tell any of her friends she cheated on me, and blamed me for it. Which is why everyone hates me.”

“Yeet skeet self-delete, my bro.” Lucas said sympathetically, flashing a gang sign. “Obama means family.”

“What is Obama’s last name?” Hendery asked.

“Wasn’t it Care?” Ten replied.

“I could’ve sworn it was Biden, man.”

“You’re all fucking idiots,” Winwin mumbled from behind his pillow.

“Really feeling the love right now. Anyways, Winwin, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who was your first crush?”

“Real life?”

“Like, you knew them and spoke to them.”

“Oh, god. Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“...Ten.”

“What is with Ten and getting all the gay guys?” Lucas asked, gesturing furiously between Ten and Hendery and Winwin.

Kun winced slightly.

“Oh, shut up, Lucas, the author literally wrote a one-shot of you and Ten making out.”

“N-nani?”

“~breaking the fourth wall~” Yangyang sang.

A knock came at the door, and Hendery jumped up. “Pizza guy!”

Yangyang jumped up, too, and tackled Hendery. “Oh no.”

He ran to the door and checked the peephole.

“Oh my god it’s Renjun what the fuck do I do holy shit-”

“You open the goddammed door and take the pizza.”

Yangyang opened the door, and Renjun stood there, holding a pizza.

“You. You are God himself,” Hendery said, lying on the floor.

“Uh… thanks.”

“I got the message to send the cutest delivery boy?”

“Oh, that was just a dare. Don’t mind it,” Yangyang said, letting out a nervous giggle.

“Yeah, sure. Just a dare,” Ten repeated, laughing into his bottle of Coke. “Anyways, wanna stay for a slice?”

“I would, but I need to get back to my dorm and study. Organic Chemistry.”

Winwin nodded, a tortured look in his eyes. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

“Thanks.”

Ten got up, vaulted over Lucas, and darted into the dorm room. Kun heard some mysterious crashes, and sighed. There went the Starburst bowl. He popped back out, holding a wad of cash. “Twenty. Keep the change.”

Yangyang grabbed his wallet and handed Renjun ten dollars. “Tips for following our instructions.”

Renjun’s cheeks pinkened slightly, and Yangyang slipped the dollar bill into his hand. They touched for a moment too long.

“Um, yeah. Thanks. Enjoy your pizza.” Renjun said, walking out.

“You too! Love you!” Yangyang blurted out, and then had a moment of immediate realization.

The door closed, and Kun could’ve sworn he saw the tips of Renjun’s ears burning.

“OH MY GOD GET MARRIED ALREADY I SWEAR IF YOU DON’T ASK HIM OUT I WILL FOR YOU ASHDJGHSDFJAHGDFDAKGJDFKADGH-” Hendery shrieked, dragging Yangyang down to the floor with him.

“Somebody kill me. Somebody. Kill. Me.” Yangyang uttered, dead look upon his face.

“You guys held hands. It’s adorable.” Ten cooed, opening the pizza box.

“I was only here for the pizza,” Winwin complained, taking a slice. “What do I get? A slice of life romantic comedy.”

“It’s cuta, like Yuta.” Ten replied.

“Why do you do this. Why do you do this?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Kun surveyed the room, sighed once more, and smiled slightly.

Sure, they were a bunch of dysfunctional crackheads, but they were _ his _ dysfunctional crackheads.

Obama meant family, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating.
> 
> I reread The Fault in Our Stars and cried into my bedcovers at two am in the morning.
> 
> Chopped off six inches of my hair.
> 
> Procrastinated.


	8. a short q and a where i basically compare myself to mark lee's kprofile facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> procrastinated once again
> 
> here you can see my unfiltered crack
> 
> ~woohoo~
> 
> happy winwin day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ew okay i just published this and the spacing is so fudging weird i'm never trusting google docs again
> 
> but will i change it?
> 
> no
> 
> because i'm lazy

I WOULD LIKE TO START THIS BY SAYING HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WINWIN.

HIS "LOVELY" DANCE WITH TEN DRAGGED ME DOWN THE HOLE OF NCT.

AND HERE I AM.

LITERALLY WRITING NCT FANFICTION FOR A LIVING.

okay, letsgeddit

by the way, i do not even attempt to grammar in this thing

yEAH

[this is a screenshot of some stuff](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Xq74tL-7iVY/Xbd0VKiKfjI/AAAAAAAAFa0/57fm8_Y2WYYXnBcgTBtc_05tKRwTsus9QCK8BGAsYHg/s0/2019-10-28.jpg)

I've lived in four places in my life.

The Sweet Motherland of Communism (jk please nobody kill me) also known as Changsha, China. Lay from EXO is from there. We stan Lay in this household.

New England

CHICAGOOOOOOO (johfam where you @)

gEoRgIa

btw none of these are in order because as much as i love you strangers i don't want to die just yet

Bilingual? More like BYE-lingual because I can't speak either hahahahahaha *pulls a Mark Lee and dabs in 2019*

It's Chinese and English. Trying to teach myself Korean but I spent four months trying to pronounce "안녕하세요" while my Korean friends grimaced in the background.

So yeah, that's not really working out right now.

Foods:

Bagels? Yup.

Cookies and Cream ice cream? MAN, THEY GOT COOKIES AND CREAM FLAVOR

Chicken? Sign me up.

Kimchi? Have had it before. It Gucci.

RICE, MY LIFE BLOOD.

it's the most beautiful thing i ever did see

iT'S A WATERMELON

NEXT TO A WATERMELON

Jajangmyeon is like noodles and black bean sauce. Never had it. There are some Chinese dishes that are similar to it, tho.

Cookies? ...yUP

Chips? also yes

Bread? Remember that time when I religiously inhaled Costco baguettes? Actually I think that was on my profile at one point. ah, past memories

Chocolate? *insert the Frank's red hot announcer voice* I put that sh*t on EVERYTHING.

*stands up* dRANK:

I don't really like Coke that much.

Banana Milk is something I've had precious little of but it's literally AMAZING. BTW, someone give Jungkook a banana milk sponsorship or I will throw hands.

Boba. I LOVE BOBA. 

Colors!

Favorite color? Blue is nice. Probably my top 3.

Here is a list:

1\. Gold

2\. White

3\. Blue

Numbers.

Number 2? Honey, you bring home a second in your class and your a$$ finna get whooped.

My favorite number(s) is/are 13, 21, and 69. I'm immature as fu-

mOVING ON

Fall.

I love fall.

Fall is lovely.

I want to stay in the really crisp fall days and just...

~whoo~

jump in leaves and have cups of hot chocolate and wear oversized grey sweatshirts while quietly singing soft songs along to an acoustic guitar

Weather!

Windy?

Depends.

Sunny and windy?

hells yeah 

Rainy and windy?

h*ck no

Personally, I like snow.

FAVORITE HOLIDAY

CHRISTMAS

YES

CHRISTMAS IS THE BEST

I AM THAT ONE PERSON THAT LEAVES THE TREE UP UNTIL MARCH

THERE WAS ONE YEAR WHEN MY FAMILY LEFT IT UP UNTIL MAY

LITERALLY MAY

White chocolate peppermint bark is the thing that will kill me one day.

*starts playing Christmas music in November*

Sports: 

Ice skating is really fun. I took classes as a fetus child and was at the top. I also almost made the swim team (before moving), took ballet and gymnastics, and played soccer/football. So take that all with a grain of salt.

Badminton is the one sport involving hand-eye coordination that I don't miserably fail at everytime.

I like playing volleyball.

I also do cross-country and track and field, but the cross-country season is almost over.

*whoo*

*prepares for midterms and locking myself in a room with only my laptop and writing twelve thousand word fanfictions*

eye-

Has anyone here played carpetball? Just me? Okay, cool.

hIS FAVORITE ACCESSORIES ARE THE HATS

THE HATS

Mark Lee is on another level.

I like beanies, but can't pull them off. Somebody's trying to knit me one right now. Sadly, it is not hypegirl.

Earrings, maybe. Earrings are nice. And putting my hair in ridiculous styles when nobody can see it and then ripping out my scalp in the process of untangling everything.

ARTISTS:

Beyonce? aNyThiNG fOr yOu bEyoNCE

Coldplay? ehhhh

Chris Brown? i literally know him from the memes and that might be chris rock so idk

*inhales* M I N H O ERMAGAWD

XIUMIN

XIUMIN, MY QUEEN  


QUEEN/KING  


X I U M I N

*runs hands through flames on the top of my head*

*i'm calm, i'm calm*

it's

uh

it's a lot of kpop ngl

NCT (obviously)

Blackpink

BTS

EXO

Stray Kids (Woojin- eye- nope, still never getting over that)

Twice

Itzy

The Boyz

Day6

The Rose

and probably a lot more i can't think off the top of my head right no-

OMG ATEEZ WHOOPS I'M AN IDIOT

and random depressing songs from the early 2000s

I also have WTTBP randomly downloaded on Spotify.

so every once in a while i get g-noted

it's pretty great ngl

SCHOOL SUBJECTS!

English? uhh. it's okay

Writing?  


YESH

Physical Education? *starts laughing hysterically and doesn't stop* 

*breathes*

*starts laughing again*

nOPE

He hates Science? bro- sameee

DISLIKES:

I have a weird relationship with ketchup.

y he don't liek seafood my chinese a$$ can't handel that

He- he... hE DOESN'T LIKE GREEN TEA HE CAN'T BE MY DUCKING SPIRIT ANIMAL YOU JUST RUINED THE ENTIRE VIBE BRO

man  


i thought there was something

turns out you were just (joh)fam  


IT'S OFFICIAL. MARK LEE IS NOT MY SPIRIT ANIMAL.

IT'S OKAY THO I STILL LOVE HIM IN A NON-CREEPY WAY BECAUSE I KNOW THERE IS NO POSSIBLE WAY THAT WE'D EVER END UP TOGETHER.

ANYWAYS

I JUST REVEALED WAY TOO MUCH PERSONAL INFORMATION ONLINE BECAUSE I'M STUPID

mY sOciAL sEcUrItY nUmbER iS-

nah

i'm working on two things at the moment that i'm going to add to this

soon

because i need to hurry the diddly dang darn up since there are... what, three days left in October?

okay

cool

love y'all no homo

~goodbye from a person who regrets her username to this day~


End file.
